To be free to love the way we are

The way we need to be.

To be free to run up mountains or walk down dusty city streets

To be free to tend each others broken hearts

And not fear all this anger and tears.

To be……..

Not strangers staring across a life time of loneliness

Nor players trapped into roles that are not ours

Rather this…….

Fragile souls reaching out into the darkness

Knowing that courage is not the absence of fear,

Seeing that love always comes at a price

Finding a road across the savage mountains that part us

And a way to act with great love and true dignity.

Standing now…..

Realising how unique we are

How ravaged our souls

And yet how blessed that in the darkness we met

And in our own way have reached out

Not knowing how this might end

But believing that within each is an oasis of beauty to be found.

What memories for you of love?

What dreams that you held close, now gone?

A story told, a man awaited, a brother lost in desert storms.

A meal together, a look of love.

These songs well sung

And wild roads walked.

But on a cross a poor man dies

No home or gold to ease his life

And on the cross a young man dies

An eternity from home and peace

And this poverty, these bleeding hands, this blessing touch

And words of compassion and hope and trust

Not locked away not turned to dust

But lived upon our broken streets

In embolden hearts now reaching out,

These to become memories of love.

And blood is on our hands for now we force these nails in,

In anger………

In desperation, in fear.

Do you think we can be justified?

Never…..but certainly forgiven.

But you know someone must bring this love to us,

Like bread to the hungry…

But not these fools who cut us off

In the very name of the Christ

And because we are sinners?

And because we are broken?

And because we are lost?

But this arrogance too will be forgiven.

As we too can be forgiven.

But despite forgiveness and despite the cross,

Someone will die tonight….

This old women who could not heat her home,

This young boy we could not wait alone and finds a knife in his leg.

And these who die of the cold of despair

And these who fall and fall

And just because we were not there,

And just because we were not here to remind them of love,

And to be that love…..

And to show that love like mirrors,

Reflecting this cross, this healing, this light into the dark places…

Into the desperate sorrow of our city’s streets

It was this love that was given

This holy blood pouring out on a tree

This pain to give forth life.

These copious tears at loss that can never be fathomed never understood.

But not for this.

Not for each eating alone in silent rooms

With our hearts dying in hypothermic desperation

And our lives devoid of purpose or reasons

Unconnected, unrelated, unnoticed because of a thousand distractions

But I am here and I am here but you do not see me

Cannot know me fear the desperation you sense somehow

Yet assume is just a misunderstanding when in fact I was crying

When in fact I was dying

I was drowning inside.

By fires that bring no heat

And roads that bring us back

Only to uncertain beginnings, not destinations.

Here where words fail, losing meaning, betraying good intentions.

Somewhere that has been reached

Through unknown sorrows

Or grief too profound to fathom,

A place where misunderstanding comes easier

And clarity seems beyond grasping

A road to nowhere and back again.

When there had been a belief in beauty,

Real hope in some kind of Truth

And a vision of glory and a word of God.

And all this wrought by those who speak about Truth.

And who talked about loving,

But who threw hearts like debris onto the fire.

And raked up dreams like tired dead autumn leaves.

And so we become strangers to each other

And I with so many words struggling to speak

And you like the skylark beyond my reaching,

And this it seems is the way it has to be.

An unchangeable course like the paths of stars,

Set so distant from each other until eternity ends.

And so you are not quite there yet.

Still a moment of something in you.

Not fallen to the absolute zero not completed, not finished.

Step, step to go to the truest end or………..

Do not come up too fast. That will kill you too.

Stumble out, they will find you strange.

Yet your disconnect is truer than the falsities of society.

Truer than so much  that is pretence and vanity.

And how you mumble in the street.

And how you wave your arms: disturbing…..

And for this: that you could not hide your desperation anymore.

Became in these final moments something too true, too real.

And so we turned our faces, looked away.

And so this final effort meeting not even an echo

Left you gone with nothing now able to bring you back.

 

Do not come too late for this.

A birth: that we had all waited for.

A life: that we had longed to celebrate.

This journey: that I waited for us to take.

Because not all chances come again.

Because sometimes it is now or never.

And the mountain closed its doors because you were too slow

And you are left on the platform

Or even on the shelf.

But then again like Moses and the Bard you should know:

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

And you know it didn’t have to be this way.

Somewhere I think there is an alternate reality.

A different day where you knew I loved you.

Where we stood carelessly in crowds and saw these sights.

Such love and bright lights.

And you did not worry that I might care for others….

Because I don’t. ……

And you understood that I loved having waited for hours…

And just for you.

And we saw the sorrow in each others eyes

And we forgive each others sins

And we did not fight at all

But remembering the precious beat of the other’s heart…

Cared only to say….

Cared only to hear….

I love you….

Knowing that this could save us.

Understanding that this could make us

So blessed

We who are children of a lesser God.

You didn’t want me to be that honest

Thought Truth could be poured in increments.

Didn’t realise I would actually say what I thought.

Consider this a blasphemy or worse.

Subversive treason. Dictatorship not democracy then…..

No humour in you.

But I am laughing now because I actually thought you wanted my view.

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Isn’t this about catching butterflies?

Knowing you must set them free,

Allow the gentle wings to stretch away,

On the crest of a whispering breeze,

On a current of warm spring.

Isn’t this about making a memory?

Lighting a beautiful candle in hope,

Even knowing it must go out.

Even knowing it can be held but only in your lonely heart.

Isn’t this about trying to live and walk out?

Like a king riding out to fight a losing battle.

Like a Son of God to a tragic crucifixion.

Or children of God walking slowly to the end.

But you know if all must pass and time end:

Let us take this time and paint bright colours,

Let us dance on these passing spring meadows

Or crash from our beds to catch the Dawn.

Oh let us sing just because it is today.

And we had to escape angry showers

And our knees hurt from running or praying.

And because tomorrow promises us nothing.

And yesterday is a memory fading away.

Let us be not without care but with love,

Under the passing clouds, lost and found in a moment.

In a second that is now and gone for ever.

In a day that lived well could be ours forever.

But that can never be lived again.

(To Huda)